


A House or a Home

by KayQy



Series: Unsorted [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Coulson is in every house, Gen, Inspired By Tumblr, yes the bowtie is finally official
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:17:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayQy/pseuds/KayQy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Coulson is in every house."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Year 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://kayquimi.tumblr.com/post/50286419414/rockerchic93-twigwise-soloproject) on tumblr. Stupid ninja plotbunnies, with their irresistible interestingness....

“Well, now,” young Philip heard the Sorting Hat say in his head, “and where should I put you? The courageous Gryffindors? The loyal Hufflepuffs? The crafty Slytherins? The clever Ravenclaws?”

“Do I have to pick one?” Philip thought.

“What, are none of them good enough for you?” scoffed the hat.

“They’re all good,” Philip thought. “Mom was a Hufflepuff and Dad was Slytherin, and Grandpapa was a Ravenclaw and Aunt Polly was a Gryffindor, and they’re ALL smart and brave and loyal and sometimes tricky, and I just… I don’t get why I have to choose just one.”

“Hmm, pretty insightful for a brat,” the Sorting Hat said. “But I can’t exactly sort you into ALL of the Houses.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, you’d have to pick one House to sleep in. It wouldn’t be practical for you to have to move around all the time.”

“I can do it! When I visited Aunt Polly I slept in a different guest room every night until I found the most comfy bed. And I got up early and made the bed every morning so she didn’t even notice I didn’t sleep in the dumb baby room.”

“I see.” The hat shuffled a bit on his head. “You do realize, kid, that just because you’re sorted into one House, it doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends with kids in all the other Houses? Yours will just be the one you spend the most time with, the one you identify as.” 

“But how can I decide which one I identify as before I try them out for myself?”

“Technically, I’M the one who decides that,” the Sorting Hat told him. Philip crossed his arms stubbornly. “Buuuuut….”

Philip held his breath. “But?” he echoed silently.

“Well, in this conversation alone you’ve proven yourself wily, adventurous, inquisitive, ambitious, steadfast— or at least stubborn— all the signature qualities of every House. It won’t be easy, of course… but really, I think it’s time things were shaken up a bit around here. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Philip’s face broke into a brilliant grin. “Yes!”

“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you…”

Just as the students and teachers were starting to wonder (and grumble hungrily) at the long silence from the Sorting Hat, Peeves looped over the tables with a shriek of laughter and a string of fizzbangs. By the time the teachers had settled everyone back down, the small, nondescript boy had sat down at one of the tables, and nobody noticed that they hadn’t heard which House the Sorting Hat had declared them.

Or at least, nobody mentioned it.

At one point, Philip looked up to see the Headmaster’s eye gazing at him thoughtfully. He gulped, but the Headmaster simply nodded and turned to wave his wand over the tables and begin the feast.


	2. Year 2

"What the hell, Banner?"

Philip Coulson stopped by the doorway of the detention hall and peeked in. Tony Stark was glaring at the first-year he was supposed to be tutoring, and while Philip didn't think Stark would actually hurt the boy, Bruce Banner was small and withdrawn, and Philip had started making it a point to sit beside him when he ate at the Slytherin table, so he couldn't help feeling a bit protective.

And currently, Bruce was cringing back from the second-year. "I'm sorry, I just thought if I did it this way, it would--"

"Don't apologize!" Stark exclaimed. "This is brilliant. Most of the fourth-years can't even figure out how to transfigure like this. I know, I've snuck into their classes. A lot more interesting than our beginner classes, and more fun watching them screw up easy stuff. We could show them a thing or two, I bet."

Philip relaxed as he saw Bruce do the same. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." Tony swept his arms open in a grand gesture. "You could probably skip up a couple years if you wanted to. Hell, I'm not sure why you're in Slytherin when you could be in Ravenclaw--"

"Hey," Philip interrupted, because Bruce's face was crumpling up again like he was going to cry, "Slytherins can be just as smart as Ravenclaws."

"Honestly, Coulson," Stark complained, "don't you have any House pride?"

Bruce's expression went from distressed to confused, and before he could say something about which House he was in, Philip rolled his eyes and said, "Not everything has to be a House competition." It probably wouldn't be the end of the world if the truth came out, but he'd managed to keep his Houseless status a secret for more than a year now, just by being quiet and unnoticeable, and he really wanted to see how long he could keep it going. It was a challenge at this point.

"Yeah, sure," Stark scoffed, "let's see if you're still saying that when you let the Gryffindors take the House Cup again this year. Or worse, the Huffle-- ow!" He rubbed his head and whirled around to glare at the scrappy blond first-year who was holding his yellow-and-black tie as a sling. "Dammit, Barton, I will end you!"

Clint Barton already had a black eye from the fight that had gotten him in detention in the first place, but it didn't deter him one bit. "Screw you, Stark, Hufflepuffs'll take this whole school down!"

While Stark chased Barton around the room-- swearing some more when the first-year jumped into the rafters-- Philip leaned over to Banner and said, "Don't worry about them. Slytherins are cool. Doesn't make you smarter or dumber or better or worse than any other house."

Bruce blinked at him. "What does it make me, then?"

Philip had been exploring and watching all four houses for over a year now, and he still didn't have the answer to that question. He shrugged. "Someone who likes to wear green?" Bruce gave a tiny smile, and Philip added, "If Stark or anyone else tries to make you feel bad about being a Slytherin, go see Natasha Romanov. She's a third year, but she'll show you what's awesome about Slytherins."

"Okay," Bruce said quietly, just as caretaker Hogan came in and started reaming Stark and Barton out for their antics.


	3. Year 3

"Son of Coul?"

"You can call me Phil, you know."

"Of course, Philip."

Phil sighed. Philip was such a childish name, but good luck trying to get Thor to be informal. "Can I help you or something?"

Thor loomed over the table Phil was studying at— the fourth-year was already taller and broader than most seventh-years— but his voice lacked its normal exuberance. "I wondered if perhaps you might grant me some advice."

"About?"

It hadn't quite been an invitation, but Thor sat down with such a look of relief that Phil couldn't take it back. "There is a young lady in your year," he began.

Phil managed not to groan out loud. "Does this young lady have a name?"

"Yes!" Thor said eagerly. "But I have not yet learned it."

Thor didn't seem to notice the snicker from the top of the bookshelves, so Phil ignored it, too. "What _do_ you know about her?"

Thor immediately launched into a long flowery description that basically boiled down to small, brown hair and eyes, smart (or as Thor put it, "her brilliance puts the rest of her House to shame,") and often seen with a first-year Hufflepuff.

"I think you're talking about Jane Foster, in Ravenclaw," Phil finally said. "She's been tutoring Darcy Lewis in History of Magic in exchange for help in Muggle Studies."

"Really?" Thor said in surprise. "I would not think that she'd need any help to pass such a class."

"It's different living it than just learning about it," said Phil. "And I think she wants to learn about more than just the everyday stuff Professor Xavier tries to teach us." He hesitated to say more, but it was hardly a secret-- Jane would bend anyone's ear about what she'd learned given half a chance-- and if Thor was going to be one of those fools that had a problem with it, better to find out now, before introducing them. "She's pretty interested in Muggle Sciences, comparing them to what we know through magic. Especially astronomy and astrology."

Thor's face showed surprise and confusion, but not, Phil thought, actual distaste. A good sign. "What does she hope to learn from such a project?"

"You'll have to ask her yourself," Phil said.

Thor's eyes lit up. "Then you'll introduce us?"

"Only if you promise not to make fun of her or Darcy about it."

"Of course I will not do such a thing!" Thor said. "Who would?"

"Well, your brother seems to think it's hilarious." Phil blinked in surprise; he hadn't heard Barton come down from his not-so-secret perch in the bookshelf, but the boy was leaning across the table to play with one of Phil's quills. "He and his buddies have been making a game of coming up with hexes the professors can't trace."

"Is this true?" Thor asked Phil.

Phil shrugged uncomfortably. "I haven't caught them actually casting any spells," he said, "but they do always seem to be around to laugh when some... mishap occurs."

Thor nodded thoughtfully. "Loki is young, but that is no excuse to behave shamefully to a fellow wizard. I shall speak to him." Barton snorted, but didn't add anything else, and Thor's attention returned to Phil. "You will introduce us still?"

"After dinner tonight," Phil promised. Thor grinned.

"My thanks, son of Coul!" he said at his normal volume, quickly getting shushed by the librarian. (It's not that he shouted, really, his voice just was as strong as the rest of him.) "If there is anything I can do for you," he added a little less loudly, "you have but to ask."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Phil said, though Thor was already rushing out of the library.

Barton snickered. "Probably going to spend all afternoon on his hair."

"Be nice," Phil said mildly. He looked down at his book and tried to find where he'd left off.

"How'd you wind up playing matchmaker, anyway?"

"Apparently I know everyone," Phil said absently. "How did you know Loki's been hexing Lewis and Foster?"

"Not just Darcy and Jane," Barton said. "Other muggle-borns, any not-Slytherins that they think are really pathetic..." he shrugged.

"Have they come after you?" Phil asked. Too late he realized that made it sound like he thought Barton was pathetic, but the second-year just smirked.

"They'd have to catch me first," he said. "Nobody ever looks up, you know. And I'm better at seeing spells than casting them, so even when they try to hide it... well, I notice."

Phil glanced up. "You can see spells?"

"Better than most people, I guess." Barton spun the quill between his fingers. "For example, I don't think anyone else has noticed your tie changes colors."

Phil swallowed. "Does it?"

"Yeah. Which kind of explains why I only ever see you in the Hufflepuff common room on Tuesday and Thursday nights. You've got History of Magic first thing in the mornings with them, don't you?"

"Do you know my entire schedule?"

"I told you, I notice things. Especially when they're more interesting than they look."

Phil felt his face heat, and turned back to his book in an attempt to hide his blush. "Not too hard; I don't look interesting at all."

Barton grinned. "That's what's so cool about you."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "That I'm boring?"

"That you work so hard to _look_ boring," Barton corrected. He murmured a charm over the quill, then threw it. It floated around the room in lazy circles, then embedded itself lightly in the wood of Phil's table. "Makes me want to find out what you're hiding."

"I'm not _hiding_ anything," Phil protested. "It's just... easier if nobody's paying attention to you." He ducked his head again, trying to pretend he hadn't said more than he'd intended. Held his breath and waited for one of Barton's infamous wisecracks.

But Barton just sighed and said, "Yeah." Like he actually understood. After a moment, he added, "You know about the secret passage by the third stairwell?"

"I-- no?" Phil blinked.

"If you touch the fourth brick up and over and whistle, it'll open right up. Leads to whichever Common Room you know the password to." Phil looked at Barton suspiciously; the second-year held up his hands. "Honest! I got Tasha to test it with the Slytherin room, even, you can ask her if you don't believe me. May my hair turn purple if I'm lying."

"...Why purple?"

"Because purple's the best. After yellow, of course." Barton hopped off the table and darted around the shelves. "Good luck with your matchmaking service!" he called, just loud enough to draw the attention of half the other students in the library. Phil buried his head in his hands.

But when he went to meet Thor in the Gryffindor common room, he took the third stairwell. It worked just like Barton'd said.


	4. Year 4

"How is he?" Phil asked Pepper as she closed the door to the hospital wing.

She grimaced. "Still refusing to let anyone look at his... thing. Says they wouldn't get it anyway, and it's staying right where it is, thank you very much."

"Sounds like typical Stark," Phil said as lightly as he could manage. "And how are you?"

Pepper took a shaky breath. "I've— been better."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help more," Phil said. Headmaster Fury had even tasked him to keep an eye on Tony Stark after the boy's kidnapping the previous summer, but Stark had avoided him all autumn— avoided everyone, really, holed up in some secret laboratory that seemed to _move around_ (sometimes Hogwarts architecture was as infuriating as it was fascinating, really), working, apparently, on crazy armor that was some heretical almagamation of magic and engineering. And none of them had realized who was really behind it all until it was nearly too late.

"No," said Pepper, "if not for you I wouldn't have been able to get away from Professor Stane, and get proof of his b-betrayal to Headmaster Fury. Thank you. It's just..." She sat down abruptly and rubbed her eyes. "I just— if I wanted adventure and excitement, I'd be in Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff!"

"Gryffindor doesn't have a monopoly on courage," Phil said, sitting next to her and patting her shoulder.

Pepper wrapped her arms around herself. "Yeah, well, apparently Hufflepuffs don't have the market cornered on loyalty, either."

"I wonder," Phil said quietly, "if that reputation for loyalty isn't what got to Professor Stane in the end."

"What do you mean?" Pepper asked.

Phil chewed on his lip while he tried to sort out the idea. "I mean... he was loyal to the Starks for years, and everyone just... expected him to be. To be loyal to Tony the exact same way he was loyal to Tony's father, as if they weren't very different people. And... well, everyone expects Hufflepuffs to be loyal, but not many people seem to think they should be rewarded for their loyalty."

Pepper wrinkled her nose. "Well, of course not. Loyalty just for reward isn't really loyalty."

"I'm glad that's how you feel," Phil said with a smile. "And I'm definitely not trying to make excuses for what he did, but... I don't think it's good for a person's loyalty to be taken for granted, either. No matter what House they're in." Also, he wondered how much of Stane's suspicious behavior had been overlooked simply because he _was_ the Starks' trusted partner and guardian, loyal for so many years. But that just brought him back to feeling guilty and stupid for not realizing it sooner, so he didn't say it out loud.

"Okay, that's enough, you have successfully patched me up, no longer bleeding, good for you, you have satisfied the Hippocratic oath." Stark's voice could be heard even before he slammed open the door and burst into the waiting room. He was still pulling on shirt and robes as he walked across the room, and Phil caught a glimpse of the silver-blue medallion embedded in Stark's chest. "But I've got a company to keep from being handed over to the next wizard who thinks I'm too young to be in control of my own fate, so."

"Tony!" Pepper shot to her feet.

"Hey, Pep, looks like you're doing just fine, good to see you--"

"Mister Stark," the healer said, "you really must let us more closely examine--"

"Nope, and nope," Stark said. "I don't care how shiny it is, it is not a button for you to push-- oof." He backed up a step and glared up at the Headmaster. "You were not there half a second ago."

"Congratulations on noticing the obvious," Fury said. "I wasn't sure you were capable. Still not sure you're capable of taking care of yourself."

"I guarantee," Stark said softly, "there is no one alive who knows more about this tech-- this magic than I do. So you and your healers and your Ministry wizards can keep your hands to yourself."

The two stood there for an endless moment, Fury a solid black monolith blocking the door with his arms crossed, Stark refusing to be intimidated despite being dwarfed by the older wizard. In the end, Fury tilted his head and stepped aside, and Stark swept out of the room. Pepper followed close behind, and Phil could hear them arguing all the way down the hall.

That evening, Stark cornered Phil by the entrance to the Grand Hall and gave a rambling speech of sorts, in which he explicitly did not thank Phil, but declared he would magnanimously forgive him "stalking and spying on behalf of the one-eyed tyrant", since he had, after all, helped protect Pepper, "though, you know, she's not letting me hear the end of it, as if any of it was my fault, that's just victim blaming, it's ridiculous, I need to get less annoying friends..."

Phil rolled his eyes and started to say something sarcastic, but he caught the grimace that flashed across Stark's face, and it occurred to him that while Tony Stark was _popular_ with most of the school, the ones that he seemed to actually consider friends could be counted on one hand: Pepper, of course, and probably Rhodes in sixth year, and Banner if he hadn't mysteriously dropped out the year before, and....

"You're welcome," Phil said instead, and didn't argue when Stark insisted he _wasn't thanking him_ , just grinned and went to supper. It was unlikely that he'd ever really be considered a friend, but that didn't mean he couldn't try to act like one.

This resolution lasted about an hour. Then Stark announced to the entire school that he was the Iron Mage, reminding Phil just why most of his friends treated him with sarcasm and exasperation. It was a survival mechanism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead yet! *staggers about*


	5. Year 5

Phil tried very hard to contain himself.

It wasn't easy. Steve Rogers, _the_ Steve Rogers, Hero of Hogwarts during the Second Wizards' War, had been found— alive, even, sleeping under an enchantment that a team of expert wizards had finally broken, the same age as when he'd disappeared nearly a century ago— the same age as _Phil_. And the Ministry had decided— at Fury's strong suggestion— that the best and safest way to help Rogers reacclimate to the new century was to re-enroll him in Hogwarts. And then Fury had decided that _Phil_ was the best choice to help Rogers get settled in.

So now he was giving a tour to the Hero of Hogwarts. No big deal. He was a mature, responsible student, whom the Headmaster and professors trusted, and he would not let them down.

And he absolutely would _not_ melt into a puddle of hero-worshipping goo just from shaking the hand of the person he'd idolized since he was three. He even kept his voice even and calm as he said, "It is an honor to meet you, Captain Rogers, sir."

"Just Steve, please," Rogers said, with a rueful smile that didn't reach his clear blue eyes. "Captain was more of a nickname they stuck on me to boost morale, it was never really official."

"No, I've read all the books and scrolls about you and the Howling Commandos and the Resistance," Phil protested. "If even a third of the official stories are accurate, you more than earned the title by the end of the war—" he cut himself off, turning red. He had a habit of defending his hero to anyone who dared dismiss him, but to argue Steve Rogers' history with _Steve Rogers_.... "Sorry, I, uh, get a little carried away."

"No, it's okay. Thanks." His smile was a little more sincere this time. "But really, call me Steve."

"Sure, of course." Phil said. He ignored the portraits tittering on the wall behind him. "Then just call me Phil."

After that, the tour went fairly well. Steve paid close attention and asked intelligent questions about the parts of the school that were new or different from his time, like the greenhouse that had been expanded after Phil's third year; and he listened politely even when whatever Phil was explaining was something he already knew. (Phil hoped that didn't happen too often, but better safe than sorry on some things.)

Then they went outside, and Steve froze on the steps, staring at the center of the courtyard. "That's, uh, new."

Phil looked at the statue of Steven Rogers, Hero of Hogwarts, Who Fell Defending Our School And Our World From The Tyranny Of The Red Skull And The Wrath Of The Great Hydra, Long Will He Be Missed. "He's, uh, he's fairly accurate," he offered. "A little larger than life, of course, but only by a few feet, and most of that's the pedestal." Steve snorted something ironic about accuracy under his breath, but Phil kept babbling. "He's very, uh, restful, and peaceful, unless you're trying to bully or hurt someone. I find sitting at the base is a good place for me to study or practice spells, very relaxing and inspiring..... uh." Merlin's beard, had he really just said that he liked to study at Steve Rogers' feet? Clearly it was time for him to walk straight into the Whomping Willow, there was no way he was living this down, especially not if—

A sharp whistle interrupted Phil's embarrassment. Steve tensed and had his wand out immediately, and his "Petrificus totalus!" hit three feet to their right at the same time as Phil's anti-disillusionment countercharm— which revealed Tony Stark standing halfway down the stone steps.

Well, 'standing' was overstating things-- Stark's body was already tipping over in comically slow motion. Another flurry of spells shot out: Phil's "Arresto Momentum!" slowed Stark down, Steve undid his body-bind jinx, and someone summoned a pile of pillows to the bottom of the steps, so Stark sailed down to land safely on the cobblestones, and scrambled up in a massive flailing of limbs just in time to get a series of pillows to his face. "What the heck?" Stark sputtered. "Overkill much?"

"Sorry!" Steve said. "Are you all right? I just, the whistle, for a second I thought— it was reflex, and I'm really sorry. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, sure I'm fine, you can get _off_ me now!" Stark rolled to his feet.

"You're not going anywhere but back to the infirmary," Phil said.

"That is completely unnecessary, I'm fine, haven't been dying for nearly a week now—"

"Dying?" repeated Steve, clearly aghast.

"Not dying, keep up sweetcheeks, anyway I just need a couple hours, I promised Pepper I'd meet her in Hogsmeade for lunch, and I think I've disappointed her enough this lifetime, don't you?"

"Pepper knows where you're supposed to be."

"Fine, I promised myself I'd surprise her, come on, Coulson—"

"I will Stun you and drag your body back to the Healing Hall myself."

"Sure," Stark scoffed. "You and whose army?"

"I'd be glad to help get you wherever you're supposed to be," Steve said.

"I think you've helped enough," Stark snapped.

Steve crossed his arms. "Then don't make it necessary."

Stark glared right back. "You're pretty trigger happy, aren't you? Could hurt someone, waving your wand around recklessly like that."

"I hit exactly where I aimed," Steve retorted. His flinch was barely a twitch, but Phil could see that Stark noticed it, too, and was going to latch onto that weakness if he didn't step in.

"How did you know where to aim?" Phil asked quickly. "Did you see through his cloaking spell, or did you just follow my shot that quickly?"

"Oh. Um. That was a coincidence," Steve said. "That whistle sounded like one of the codes we used in the Commandos, so I was completely on reflex. Took me right back." He shrugged. "Just luck that it sent me aiming at the right spot."

"'Right' is debatable," Stark muttered, rubbing his chest. His glare at Steve turned a shade more thoughtful.

"Maybe it's not a coincidence," Phil said, his excitement rising again. "None of the Commandos ever released the codes they used to the public, but maybe the code Barton learned was based on it." He was already composing a letter to some of the former members of the circus, asking if any of them had been related to a Commando.

"Okay, I'll get back to the fact that you've set Barton as my watchdog," Stark said. He pointed at Steve. "You're the real thing, aren't you? The original Steve Rogers."

"Er," said Steve. "Technically I was named after my grandfather--"

"You know what I mean. Hero of Hogwarts, subject of far too many textbooks and dramatic ballads, spitting image of Old Stone Face to your left? You're shorter in person. I have to admit, when I heard you'd been found, I didn't expect to find you slumming it with us normal people."

"Nothing about you is normal," said Phil. "How did you hear about it, anyway?" It wasn't quite a secret that Rogers had been found, but it hadn't been officially announced yet, either.

Stark rolled his eyes. "Whose grandfather do you think paid for the seeking spells in perpetuity?"

"Grandfather?" Steve repeated.

"Right," Phil said. "Steve Rogers, this is Tony Stark, grandson of Professor Stark. And the reason they had to rebuild the West Tower."

"You mean that ugly one?" Steve said, looking up. "Whose idea was that design, anyway?"

"It's a perfect fusion of function and aesthetics," Stark snapped. Phil winced.

Steve looked back down. "...Oh."

After such an auspicious beginning, it was no surprise that Steve Rogers and Tony Stark were at odds for most of the year. However, Phil was surprised when Barton took Stark's side in the feud.

"How on earth did those two stop sniping at each other long enough to team up?" Phil muttered as he tried to disenchant his Prefect's badge, which Barton had spelled to sing "The Hero of Hogwarts" whenever Steve was in the same room.

_"Steve, the man they call Steve,"_ the badge sang unhelpfully.

"I believe they struck up a deal when Stark confronted Barton about spying for you," Natasha said. "Apparently Barton isn't too happy with you sharing secrets with your new best friend."

"What?" Phil forgot about the badge for a moment and stared at Natasha in confusion. "What secrets? I've just been helping Steve get settled in, like Fury asked."

"So the thing I heard about you telling Rogers all about Barton's circus code is wrong?"

Oh. That. "Yes," Phil said forcefully. "I barely mentioned it. It's not like I'd sit down and compare the whole code without Barton around." And Barton hadn't _been_ around to ask, anyway. At all.

"You should have asked him before you mentioned it in the first place," Natasha said.

"It's not like I meant to! I just... it's Steve Rogers! Can you think of anyone more trustworthy to let it slip to?"

"I thought I could. More importantly, Clint thought so." Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You're not the only one with a hero-worship problem, you know."

"Steve's everyone's hero. I don't have a monopoly on him," Phil grumbled.

Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes. "If you're going to be this obtuse, I'll stop trying to give you a clue and stay out of the whole thing. Have fun with your hero."

Natasha didn't need to Apparate to vanish. Phil was left alone with his thoughts and his Prefect badge. " _He punched out the Red Skull and gave him what for,_ " it warbled cheerfully.

"Shut up," Phil snapped. He threw it against the wall and flung himself onto the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *discreetly blows dust off the pages* >.> Nothing to see here, just a reasonably timed update...
> 
> Thanks to all the various friends who helped me finally finish this chapter. Especially boldlygo and moredibell, who came up with the "Hero of Hogwarts" song. Maybe someday I'll write out the whole thing. ^.^
> 
> Also, while writing this I realized that Steve Rogers is basically Neville Longbottom.
> 
> ~~I promise the next chapter won't take as long~~~


	6. Year 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.

"Stop right there, Loki."

Phil gripped his wand tighter and tried to project stern confidence, like Steve or like Headmaster Fury, rather than the nervousness churning through his gut. Of course, Loki was such a master of illusion that it was no trouble for him to see through Phil's own facade. He laughed as he turned to face Phil. 

"Oh, this is precious," Loki said. "Are you here to defend Hogwarts in the name of your dear Headmaster? Or perhaps your beloved Hero of Hogwarts? You know, the one who's been too busy fighting with Stark to take care of me himself? Banner, Barton, Romanov, all your allies, reduced to fighting each other, and the only one left to face me is you."

"I'll be enough," Phil said, even though everything Loki said was essentially true. Loki had tricked most of the professors and staff into leaving Hogwarts, then raised a magical barrier to keep them out. Stark and Steve hadn't stopped arguing about who should do what until the explosions started; Banner, who had only recently been convinced it was safe for him to return to Hogwarts, had been incited into a rampage that Thor had only been able to hold back with his skill at lightning spells and the help of Danvers and Hill; and Clint was among at least a dozen that Loki had cast the Imperius Curse on, sowing discord before most students even knew there was anything to take sides on. Last Phil had seen, Natasha was fighting Clint near the Owlery. 

He pushed aside the anger and worry again and focused on the young man before him. Having that many spells and curses running must be a trial even for as precocious a mind as Loki's -- if Phil could just distract him enough, then maybe he would lose control. "You don't think Fury only teaches me how to grade homework and find students out past curfew, do you?"

Loki smiled. "Oh, did the Headmaster teach his pet some tricks?" Suddenly Phil felt an excruciating pain starting in the middle of his shoulder blades and radiating through his entire body. He fell to his knees; the image of Loki in front of him blinked out, and the real Loki walked around from behind Phil to sneer down at him. "Normally I'd be curious to see what pathetic attempt at a jinx you've come up with, but I have more important goals right now."

Phil swallowed and tried to get the rest of his body to work. It didn't cooperate. His voice barely did. "You won't get what you want."

"You don't know what I want."

"You still won't get it."

Loki raised an eyebrow, slid his wand out of the walking-stick he insisted on calling a scepter. "Crucio," he said conversationally. This time the pain hit every single nerve at once, and somewhere in between the screaming and spasming, a part of Phil's brain noted that the first attack hadn't been the Cruciatus curse after all. That had been more of a stabbing pain, while this was—

Phil collapsed to the ground, and the end of Loki's scepter filled his vision, blood dripping from the end of it. _Oh._

"You think you're so special," Loki hissed, "flitting from House to House like a fly on the wall, but really, it just means you belong nowhere. And no one will miss you when you're gone."

In other circumstances, this might have crushed Phil, filled him with enough self-doubt to trip him up. But Loki had already stabbed his heart once, and any further pain was redundant. Phil's hand tightened around his wand, and his lips curved up just a bit. "You can't divide them forever," he whispered, as he reviewed the syllables of Fury's Ultimate Response in his head, and gathered up what anger he could reach through his pain.

"Even if they—" Loki never finished his retort; Phil's whispered incantation blasted him across the hall and down a flight of stairs.

"That was satisfying," he murmured to himself, letting his wand drop and his eyes close. He briefly considered checking to make sure Loki stayed down, didn't get away again, but he was so tired....

"...ulson? Phil? PHIL!"

Phil blinked awake again to see a very familiar face looking down at him, looking far too worried to be under the Imperius Curse any longer. "It worked," he breathed. "That's—" he coughed. "'sgood."

"Don't talk, you idiot," Clint snapped. He turned and yelled at somebody to "hurry and get over here now, dammit!" Phil thought he heard Natasha's voice reply, and another wave of relief washed over him. "I swear," Clint growled, "when I get my hands on that scrawny little Slytherin—"

"Nothing to do with Slytherin," Phil scolded.

Clint managed a short laugh. "Is this really the time for this argument? He doesn't get a pass this time, not for—" his voice cracked, and Phil's heart found one last thing to ache for besides itself.

"It's okay," Phil whispered. He tried to lift his hand to wipe the tears off Clint's face, but he couldn't tell if his hand had moved or not. He closed his eyes again, instead. "This— this will work. You'll be," okay, he said, or maybe just thought, but he was tired again, and he'd done his part....

When he next woke up, it took Phil a good ten minutes to realize he wasn't dead, and another three to be surprised by the fact. He knew because he spent those thirteen minutes staring at the huge clock on the wall across from his bed, watching it tick past numbers and symbols until he recognized it as the clock in the Healer's Ward.

"Oh excellent, you're awake at last." Professor McCoy leaned over so that his face was in Phil's line of sight, bright blue beard and all. "How do you feel?"

Phil considered the question as thoroughly as he could manage. "Alive?"

"You don't sound very certain of that," the professor said in amusement. "That's to be expected, I suppose; we weren't very certain of it either, for a while." He held up a spoonful of something viscous and purple. "Open up." Phil obeyed, and the syrup dripped soothingly down his throat, tasting of peppermint and licorice. "Don't try to talk just yet," McCoy added. "Your heart has returned to normal, but your lung's still growing back. By all rights you should be in St. Mungo's, but we didn't dare risk transporting you that far in your condition. We'll see if transferring you continues to be necessary." He brushed Phil's hair off his forehead and smiled warmly. "In the meantime, I think there are some friends who'd like to catch you up on how things turned out, if you have the energy."

Phil nodded eagerly, and McCoy patted his hand and got up. Phil couldn't manage to turn his head enough to see the door, but he could hear the professor open it and warn whoever was waiting outside not to let him talk or exert himself, finishing with, "You all have five minutes-- ten if you can contain yourselves."

And then the room was filling up with-- well, with more people than Phil had been expecting. Steve and Natasha and Clint were no surprise, nor Pepper, though they were all certainly a relief; Thor and Stark were a bit unexpected, but probably shouldn't have been, once he thought about it; but lurking in the back were Banner and even fourth-year Betty Ross, whom he hardly knew.

"Well, I guess we should skip straight to the important stuff, since we don't have much time," Steve said. "We beat Loki, obviously. Stopped him, sent the army he was trying to raise--"

"Literally," Stark interjected, "and that was damn creepy--"

"--back to where they belonged," Steve continued doggedly. "Loki's on his way to Azkaban, and won't be getting out for a long time--"

"--and it'll be a while before he can sit down, too, after the superwerewolf spanking he got--"

"The Other Guy didn't _spank_ him, Tony!"

"You gave him an epic smack-down, and it was a thing of beauty."

"You weren't even there to see it, Stark!"

"Well, you gave us such a detailed description it was _like_ we were there, Barton!"

"Would you guys stop interrupting—"

Natasha waved her wand, and all the boys (except Phil) suddenly had their mouths taped shut with a _shuuuuush_. "I'm not getting kicked out early because you idiots couldn't keep your voices down," she hissed. Thor hummed an objection, and she added, "Sorry Thor, the spell's not very specific."

"Anyway," Pepper said. "The important thing is that everyone finally started working together, and it's really thanks to you, Phil."

Phil blinked. "Me?" he mouthed.

"Well, it was a shock when Clint and Natasha rushed into the Room of Requirement and said you were, well, dead," said Pepper, and Phil saw Clint turn red and slink back to hide behind Thor. "I'm glad they were mistaken, but it was just the wake-up call everyone needed to pull together."

"We would have pulled together eventually," Steve said softly as Natasha's spell faded. "But without that push, it might not have been in time."

"Yeah, I'm half-convinced they did it on purpose," Stark said.

"Screw you, Stark," Clint snapped, remembering to keep his voice low this time. "I don't care what you think, I really thought--" he swallowed and ducked his head.

"He ran off before Betty pulled out the bag of tricks that she'd raided from Professor Reed's cabinets," Natasha explained.

"I've been helping him for extra credit," Betty explained, "and to help with--" she glanced at Banner and blushed, "anyway, I knew he'd been studying things like the potion that froze Steve, so I thought, maybe if I could use just a little of it before you died, we could suspend you in time long enough for proper healers to save you. And it worked!" She sounded surprised and elated about that, which Phil figured was rightly earned. He smiled and mouthed a thank you.

"Yeah, she's definitely earned her way into the Science Bros club," Stark said. He frowned. "Science Sibs? Doesn't have the same ring to it--"

"Don't you mean _Magic_ Bros or Sibs or whatever?" Clint asked.

"The scientific process is a life skill regardless of what you're applying it to, even magic--"

"Guys," Steve interrupted, and to Phil's surprise, Clint and Stark actually stopped. "We're about out of time, and we haven't even given Phil his gift yet."

"Right, right." Stark waved his wand and a large basket floated through the door, covered with ribbons and balloons in green, red, yellow, and blue, and piled high with flowers, sweets, and tiny wrapped presents. "Here. To you from all of us. And by all of us, I mean basically the entire student body."

"We weren't sure what you'd be up for while you finish recovering," Pepper said as the basket settled itself on the table by Phil's head, "so each House got together and picked something different. Books, music, food, games--"

"Just so you know, I had nothing to do with the stuffed Captain Rogers," Stark said.

"The _what_?" Steve looked so flummoxed that Phil couldn't help but laugh, which set off a round of coughing that immediately had his friends in a tizzy, Clint trying to offer him water, Betty calling for Professor McCoy. But it was all right. More than anything else, it made it all feel real.

And if it gave him an excuse for the tears in his eyes, well.

"Thank you," he managed to say as the professor came back.

"All right, ladies and gentlemen," Professor McCoy said, "now that we have all reassured ourselves and each other, it's time for everyone to go and get some rest. Don't argue," he added as Stark opened his mouth. "I know just how much Skele-Gro potion you drank when no one was looking, just remember it doesn't work as well if you don't rest."

"What?" Pepper said. "I don't believe you, Tony, you said you were fine!"

"I am fine, Pepper, I just-- ack!" Tony squawked as Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him out the door.

"Don't worry, Pep, I'll make sure he gets some sleep, even if I have to tie him to his bed." Everyone burst out laughing at this, and Steve's protests that he "didn't mean it like that!" echoed as they all left.

Clint was the last one in the room as they filed out, and Phil caught his eye and mouthed, _Stay._ He nodded and winked, and when McCoy's back was turned for a second, he jumped up and used a shelf to scramble into the rafters.

From the twinkle in the professor's eye when he turned back to Phil, he wasn't fooled, but he didn't say anything about it. "Sleep goes double for you, young man," he said. "You need all the rest you can get." He set a bell on the table next to the gift basket. "I'll be right next door. Ring this if you need anything."

Phil nodded, and when McCoy had given him another spoonful of syrupy potion and closed the door gently behind him, Phil reached carefully into the gift basket and felt around until he touched a soft, squishy lump of fabric. He pulled out the Captain Rogers doll, complete with wand and shield, and tucked it in his elbow. Clint wouldn't rat him out, and even if the others saw.... it wouldn't be so bad.

So with his best friend watching over him, his hero tucked in with him, and a family waiting for him, Phil closed his eyes and slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIES, I AM NOT SORRY AT ALL~ >:D Except for how long this update took, but this was a chapter I was determined to get _right_. 
> 
> Many thanks to my friend Dru for a good beta and some Harry Potter nitpicking. ^.^
> 
> (And if anyone has something they'd love to see for year 7, I'm open to suggestions... >.> )


	7. Year 7

"Every year has its own challenges," Fury said to the assembled students and professors in the Great Hall. "Some are the everyday challenges of studying and learning, of making friends and dealing with relationships, of growing up into the best person you can be. Some challenges... are more unexpected. Some seem bigger, or scarier, or more important. But all challenges matter, and I am as proud of you for overcoming the everyday challenges as I am of those of you who have had to overcome greater ones."

Fury didn't turn his eye to single out any particular examples, but Phil allowed himself to glance around the tables to find his friends. Bruce smiling quietly at the Slytherin table. Steve at the Gryffindor table, doing his Prefectly best to pay attention to the Headmaster's speech and ignore the notes that Stark kept magicking over to him from the Ravenclaw table in between his latest magic-equals-science discussion with Jane. Clint trying to land a chestnut in every bowl of soup on the Hufflepuff table (clearly making it a point of pride not to use magic to do so), even as Pepper and Darcy covered ther bowls. He thought of Natasha, Thor, and the others who had already graduated and moved on to the next stage of their lives.

"....most importantly, the greatest triumphs this school has seen have come when you have joined to work together as a team," Fury continued. "And so I encourage you all to not be afraid to ask for help, from your classmates, your teachers, the faculty and denizens of Hogwarts, the prefects of each House, and your Head Girl and Boy, Maria Hill of Hufflepuff and Phil Coulson." At Fury's nod, Phil and Maria stood and bowed, and the Headmaster continued, "Most of all, I encourage you to all be willing to help each other with both the great and the small challenges. Tonight, however, you should have no challenge greater than a warm bed after a busy day. Good night."

The Hall filled with cheers and chatter as everyone got up and started heading for the rooms. Phil moved from the Hufflepuff table where he'd been sitting between Maria and Clint, and quietly joined the group heading for the Ravenclaw common room.

Stark saw him and rolled his eyes. "Slumber party at our House tonight?"

"Yeah. I heard you have some interesting party favors," Phil said. "Some of which might be considered too volatile for first-years."

Stark groaned. "Give me a break, I'm not going to blow any of the babies up. It's not like Thor's party last year when he got all the kids drunk and one of them vomited up a bilgesnipe."

He'd clearly said it for the benefit of the first-years clustered around hanging on their every word, but Phil shuddered anyway. That had been a very unpleasant morning-after. "Experimental magical science is not, in fact, any safer than magical alcohol-induced mystical beasts."

"I know what I'm doing!"

"So do I. Which is why I'm going to be there with fire-suppression charms ready."

"Come on," said Stark, "wouldn't you rather be a Slytherin tonight, or a Hufflepuff?"

"Can you guarantee me that you won't wear or activate the Iron Mage for the next 48 hours?"

"Sure! You know, unless there's an emergency. Or I need to test the pulse spells, but I can use just the gauntlets for that, I won't need the whole thing—"

"And that is why tonight I'm a Ravenclaw," Phil said.

Someone tugged at his robe, and Phil glanced over at the scrawny, bespectacled first-year hanging off his arm. "Scuse me, uh, Coulson, sir?"

"Just Phil is fine, Peter," he said, pleased that he remembered the kid's name. "What do you need?"

"What House are you in?" Peter blurted out. "Because the Headmaster didn't actually _say_ what your House was, even though he said Maria Hill was in Hufflepuff, and you were sitting with the Gryffindors at sorting and the Hufflepuffs at dinner, but now you're here, so what House are you _really_?"

"I am impressed, kid, you caught on fast," said Stark. "I think that might be a new record."

Peter blinked, looking even more confused. Phil just grinned. At Peter, at the other first-years, at the portraits and statues waving at them as they walked down the hall, even at Stark. "It doesn't matter what House I'm in," he said. "Hogwarts is my home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er. Been a while, hasn't it? >.> I blame life, both my own and others'. Anyway, hope this extra-sugary chapter is worth the wait! Got a bit of an epilogue in mind, but I won't set myself up for failure by giving an ETA. Eventually. (This is why I love the subscription system: I'll just get an email for whatever updated and can go, "Oh yeah, that was a thing" instead of getting my hopes up checking every week.)
> 
> Happy Christmas, everyone!


	8. Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief and much-belated epilogue.

There was a tapping at the window frame. Phil tried to ignore it at first, but it continued with increasing insistence. When it switched from a steady beat to the chorus of "Do You Believe In Magic?", he finally gave in, got up from his desk, and opened the window.

Clint grinned as he hung upside-down, his purple robes snagged on the crenellations above the window. "Gimme a hand?"

"Are you ever going to stop jumping from absurd heights without your broom?" Phil asked.

"Hey, I _started_ with my broom this time. Not my fault it got a mind of its own."

"I'm pretty sure it is your fault." Phil sighed and brought Clint inside with a flick of his wand. He didn't bother turning him right-side up before dropping him to the floor. "You could always use the door next time."

"I can never remember the password." Clint rolled to his feet with an ease that Phil was starting to envy, but mostly still appreciated for purely selfish reasons.

"So was there a reason you needed to interrupt me right now?" Phil said. "Besides the desire to kill yourself with unauthorized experiments in flight."

Clint gave him his second-best puppy dog face. It was still a very effective face, and the reason the dog got away with eating pizza all the time. "Maybe I just missed you."

"I hope that's not all, since you knew full well I'd be busy with last-minute schedule changes..."

"And maybe I also knew you would need to be reminded to take a break before you scheduled twenty first-years into back-to-back Divination and Arithmancy instead of Herbology and Potions. Again."

Phil sighed. "That was once. And it was my first year in charge of the system--"

"--and I thought you'd gotten better about learning to delegate since then, but you're still here."

"Well perhaps if a certain someone hadn't convinced young Ms. Bishop that she wanted to transfer to Hufflepuff, I'd be done by now," Phil said tartly.

Clint winced. "Aw, c'mon, it's not like I _pushed_ Kate into switching Houses. I figured she'd move over to Gryffindor, anyway, she's got the dramatic flair for it."

"I think she's got more in common with you than just unerring aim," said Phil. "Her loyalty to her friends is remarkable."

"Yeah," Clint agreed. He looked at Phil with chagrin. "Is it really taking that long to rearrange her? I thought you'd streamlined the transfer process."

And there was his best puppy dog face. The one that Clint couldn't help but use when he felt like he didn't deserve what he was hoping for. Predictably, Phil folded like a wet napkin. "It's not just her, no. There's a first-year, calls herself Skye, who's declared Houseless."

"Oh," said Clint. "That makes her, what, only the fifth completely Houseless kid since you?"

"The fourth," Phil said. "And the last two had so many problems that I started to doubt whether the system was worthwhile. But Skye.... She said she didn't consider herself Houseless, just Unsorted. There's something special about this little girl. I don't want to let her down."

Clint slung an arm around Phil's shoulder and kissed his temple. "You won't." He tugged Phil away from the desk. "You'll help her better if you take half an hour to rest your brain and remind Lucky you're still alive."

"Very well," Phil said, "but only because otherwise the poor dog would never eat any proper food. You need to feed him something besides pizza crusts."

"That's what we have you for," Clint said cheerfully. He let Phil lead the way down the stairs from the Headmaster's office, if only to keep Phil from staying behind.

Phil rolled his eyes, but when he opened the door, and soundproofing spells no longer blocked out the sound of children and teens excited to be back at Hogwarts and reuniting with friends, he couldn't help but smile. "Welcome home," he murmured. Talking to himself as much as to the distant students.

"The circus folk used to say home is where you hang your hat," Clint said. "And here we've wound up in a home where the hat hangs you." Phil snorted, and Clint grinned. "That totally counted as a laugh."

"Shut up and lead me to some Butterbeer," Phil said.

"Yes, Headmaster."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a lot longer than I'd originally intended. >.> Hopefully all of you were satisfied with the previous ending and this epilogue is merely a pleasant surprise. :)
> 
> I intend to post a sequel of sorts... well, more of a series of tangential drabbles, expanding on events that were only briefly referenced here, due to the limits of Phil's POV ~~and my own short attention span~~. Expect that to update at least as sporadically as this did, if not more so. Thank goodness for AO3's subscribe buttons, yeah? ^^;;;


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